


Fanged Geranium

by lirin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Herbology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: Five times Neville cared for Fanged Geraniums, and one time he just watched.





	Fanged Geranium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brachylagus_fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brachylagus_fandom/gifts).



Neville sat on a bench in the greenhouse, carefully examining the Fanged Geranium he had been assigned. Next to him, Hermione Granger was waving her hand in the air again. "Professor Sprout, are we going to learn to do anything else with Fanged Geraniums?"

"Not until your fourth year," Professor Sprout said calmly. "For now, all you need to know is how to prune them."

Neville didn't think his Fanged Geranium was likely to last the two years till then. It was looking a little wilted around the edges, and—he held the pot up above his head and tipped it from side to side—the root ball seemed to nearly fill the pot, leaving little room for soil and nutrients. Maybe he should prune it more severely...would a smaller, cut-back plant have a better chance at surviving with its limited resources? He set the pot back down and turned it around slowly, so that he could look at it from every angle. Which leaves and stems could it best do without? The students next to him were already enthusiastically hacking at bits of their Fanged Geraniums, but Neville didn't see a need to hurry.

"Something wrong with your plant, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Sprout asked, suddenly standing next to him.

"It's very root bound," Neville said. "I don't think it will last until we learn how to transplant them and everything in fourth year. Are you sure I couldn't learn sooner?"

Professor Sprout smiled. "Don't worry, I wouldn't make the plant wait until then. I spend a lot of time outside of class caring for the plants, and I'd make sure that one was taken care of. It looks like it needs to be split in half and divided between two roomier pots, don't you think?"

Neville nodded. "Can you do that? Split it in half without hurting it?"

"That's one of the best ways to propagate all sorts of geraniums, including fanged ones. You can also make a smaller cutting and grow them from that, but since the one you've got needs to be repotted regardless, we might as well split it right down the middle. It's not the only Fanged Geranium here that needs to be repotted; they've got quite an assortment of problems. If you have time to stay after class, you may help me if you like, and I'll show you how. It's not something you'll be tested on before your fourth year, but then I think it's something you might be interested in learning even without an exam to reinforce it."

"Yes, I would!" Neville said with a grin. "I have half an hour free after class, or more if I skip lunch."

"We wouldn't want that," Professor Sprout said. "But I might have a few sandwiches stowed away that I could share with a helper. Don't prune that Fanged Geranium too much...if you're going to split it in half, both halves still need to have plenty of leaves." She stepped away from him and moved on. "Put your gloves back on, Mr. Weasley. I'd better not hear any complaining about geranium bites; why do you think we require gloves? That's enough, Miss Abbott, you want your geranium to have some leaves left."

Neville began to turn his Fanged Geranium this way and that again. He needed to completely change his plan on how to prune it, but he didn't mind, because now he knew the plant was going to survive.

* * *

There was only one Fanged Geranium in Gran's garden at home. Neville wasn't supposed to touch it—he wasn't supposed to touch anything in the garden, really—but he didn't think Gran kept such a close eye on things that she would notice if one of the many branched stems went missing along with a few leaves. It wasn't much to look at in any case; the blooms had faded last week, and only a few wrinkled gap-toothed petals remained. Neville reached out with the knife that he had purloined from the kitchen, and snicked off the likeliest stem. He would rather have used _Diffindo_ , but using magic outside of school was against the rules. The government wouldn't be able to catch him, living in a house with an adult witch who was allowed to use magic, but then they weren't nearly as scary as Gran anyway. Neville was worried enough about getting caught stealing pieces of Gran's plants; he couldn't imagine what the consequences would be for using magic to do so.

The pot for the plant was a cereal bowl, also from the kitchen. Neville wasn't sure if it was big enough, but it was the only thing he was sure wouldn't be missed, and they didn't seem to have any actual plant pots around the house. He heaped it high with dirt, nestled the cutting inside, and sprinkled it with water until the soil was fully moistened but not sopping. Now if he could only find a place to keep the bowl where nobody would notice it. At least for a bit; once it looked nothing like the plant it had come from, maybe he could keep it in his room, and claim a friend at school had gotten it for him or something. There, behind the garden shed. It should still get enough sunlight if he left it there.

 

The new Fanged Geranium was almost half as big as its parent when Gran finally showed any notice of it—and not in the way Neville was expecting. She came home from an afternoon of shopping and called Neville down to the living room. "I got something for you," she told him. Neville was expecting underwear or socks, but instead it was a stack of plant pots. "I expect all my cereal bowls to be washed and back on the kitchen shelves where they belong by tomorrow morning," she said sternly.

Neville nodded, his head already teeming with plans.

* * *

Technically, Neville supposed, he had been breaking the rules (Educational Degree No. 31: boys and girls not permitted within 8 inches of each other) by handing Hermione Granger the jar of Flobberworms in Potions. Getting detention for it seemed rather unfair, though. The students around him agreed. Of the people currently packed into Umbridge's office, none would have received detention by last year's rules—or probably even by last month's.

Professor Umbridge bustled into the room, all smiling and pink. She closed the door behind her, but before it had quite shut, it was pushed open again. "Am I interrupting anything?" Professor Sprout asked, stepping just far enough into the room that it would not be possible to shut the door.

"Hem-hem. As a matter of fact—"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I'll just be a minute. I'm behind on getting my Fanged Geraniums prepped for next week's lesson, and Minerva told me you had some students serving detention in here. So I'll just borrow a few of them, if you don't mind. Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Miss Patil, follow me."

"You can't—"

Whatever it was that Umbridge thought Professor Sprout couldn't do (and, considering the amount of extant educational edicts, that could be any number of things), they didn't hear it as Professor Sprout slammed the door behind them and set off briskly down the corridor. She was silent until they reached the door that led out onto the hillside where the greenhouses were. "Now then," she said when they had left the castle behind. "You're all taking your O.W.L.s at the end of this year, and I can't say that Fanged Geraniums will be on them but I will say that a bit of extra practice with Fanged Geraniums certainly won't go amiss. Now, I need to have enough Fanged Geraniums for all the second years for their lessons next month, and I've nowhere near that many now. I'd like you lot to take cuttings from the ones that aren't flowering at the moment and plant them in the pots I've laid out. Mr. Longbottom knows how to make cuttings; he can show the other two of you. I'll take care of them from there. The fourth years can help with watering, and once they've rooted, a few potions should bring them up to size."

"Is the lesson next week or next month?" Neville asked.

"Oh, next month. But I thought Professor Umbridge would have less grounds to object if I told her it was next week. I could have them ready by the end of the week if I really needed to, but it would take enough potions that Professor Snape would be very unhappy with me, not to mention the plants might not be in the best health. Sometimes if you force a plant to grow too fast, it misses out on some of the nutrients that it doesn't need at the time, but will need to live a long healthy life. Judicious use of potions can produce a plant that is healthier than it could have been naturally, but it's unwise to overdo it."

They had arrived by the greenhouses by now. "Are those the pots you want us to fill?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked her.

"That's right," Professor Sprout said. "Just make enough cuttings to fill all the pots, water them gently, and then you may go."

"But that...won't be very long," Neville said. "That's all you want us to do?"

Professor Sprout put her hands on her hips. "You tell me: do you feel that that would be sufficient consequence for your rule-breaking behavior, or do you think the rules you broke were so important that you really need more punishment than what I've decided on?"

"This is plenty," Justin said hurriedly. He seemed worried that Professor Sprout would actually assign them more work.

Professor Sprout smiled. "Just make sure you don't go near Umbridge's office on your way back into the castle. Now, to work! I'll be in the next greenhouse over, tending to the Mandrakes, if you have any questions. But Neville should be able to answer most anything you're wondering about."

She winked at Neville as she left, and he winked back. Whatever Umbridge had had in mind for them, he was sure this was a thousand times better. No, a million.

* * *

Neville was glad the Room of Requirement had let him in, but it was so dreary here. There was only the one hammock, and a few Gryffindor hangings on the wall. He was sure the hammocks and hangings would adjust themselves as more of the D.A. found their ways here, but there would be other things they needed, too. Could the room provide potions? He thought about it for a while, but none appeared, so it seemed unlikely. What about the ingredients? "I'd quite like a Shrivelfig," he thought. "And a Fanged Geranium. And Dittany."

Some plant pots materialized in the corner of the room. Neville grinned. The room didn't have any sunlight, but hopefully whatever it did have would be sufficient. He knelt down to look the plants over. They were in decent shape; some pruning would be needed, and watering of course, and maybe a bit of fertilizer if the room would provide it, but they had a better chance at thriving right now than most people at Hogwarts did.

He began to turn the Fanged Geranium pot in a slow circle, thinking to himself about which growths it would be best to pinch off, and which he should be sure to preserve. Life felt easier with a clear task before him: for the moment, he knew exactly what he needed to do. The feeling might be illusory, but he would enjoy it while it lasted.

* * *

The problem with being a teacher, Neville thought, was that one had seven years of classes at once. When one was a student, the classes came year by year in their proper order, but now he had to prepare earmuffs for first years at the same time that he got N.E.W.T. revision sheets ready for the seventh years. He'd read over Professor Sprout's old lesson plans—generously owled to him on the same day he was hired—until he had them practically memorized. He admired her ideas, especially the way that she combined multiple years and had students doing different things to the same plants; but he wasn't sure he'd be able to get things rolling the way she had until at least next year. He ought to have come to Hogwarts a few days earlier. 

Frankly, he ought to have spent the entire summer here. Students would be here in only three days, and he had much too much to accomplish between now and then. With a sigh, Neville shoved open the door to the first greenhouse. Might as well see how bad of shape he was in.

Everything looked a tad overgrown, but it was all still green. Professor Sprout—Pomona, she insisted on him calling her now, though that still didn't feel right—must have had someone in to water since she had left. Every table was covered with plants, with larger ones in pots on the ground. There was enough here that surely he'd be able to cobble some sort of lesson together, even if it wasn't the exact ones he was supposed to teach.

The closest table had several dozen pots, all exactly the same. Young Fanged Geraniums, with a note from—from Pomona, giving the date they were planted and the date they were last fertilized. Neville smiled. All they needed was another dose of fertilizer and of course some more water, and they'd be ready for lessons. If he played his cards right, he could use these both for the second years (pruning) and the fourth years (repotting). He supposed he'd better let the fourth years loose on them first, or there might not be enough left for anyone to successfully repot.

Neville slipped Pomona Sprout's note into his pocket. Although what she'd written didn't look like much, he appreciated the thoughtfulness that lay behind it. She'd always been his favorite teacher, and he was glad her help hadn't ended when he finished school. He only hoped he'd be able to live up to her expectations.

* * *

Neville thought he should feel perfectly confident about teaching by this point. It had certainly been long enough. But seeing young James Potter at the start-of-term feast had rattled him. James looked so much like Harry. This was the first year he'd had to teach the child of one of his close friends, but it wouldn't be the last. Rose and Albus would be here too in a couple years, and then their younger siblings, and before they were finished with school, Luna's twins would probably be old enough...

Neville took a deep breath. He wouldn't have to be embarrassed by what his students wrote home about him. This was Herbology; he'd be fine.

His first class this year was with the fifth-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. There were so many more things they needed to learn before O.W.L.s; he hoped he could do them justice. With another deep breath, he pushed open the door to the greenhouse and stepped inside.

All of his students were already there. Well, except for Louis Moore, but the day that boy showed up to class on time would be a miracle. "We've been watering the plants while we waited for you!" Rachel Bowers greeted him. By 'we', she appeared to only mean herself and her immediate ring of friends, as no one else was holding a watering can. That was still very good; they wouldn't have to use any class time for watering.

"You said we'd be doing more transplanting this year," Francis Rallston said. "Will we get to transplant anything today?"

Neville smiled. "It seems as good a starting point as any." He'd been considering saving transplanting until next week, but there was really no reason to wait. "Okay, everybody, let's get started. The first three weeks of this year will be review to make sure you remember everything you've learned, and then we'll be jumping full bore into the remaining things you need to know for O.W.L.s. Today, you're going to be transplanting Fanged Geraniums into bigger pots before they can outgrow the pots they're in. Does somebody want to tell me what the biggest thing to watch out for is with these plants?"

Rachel raised her hand. "You need to keep an eye on the blooms at all times, so you don't get bitten."

"Very good, Rachel. Five points to Slytherin. Now, I think you all should be proficient in transplanting after last year, and other than bewaring of biting, there's nothing much new with these plants, so I'm going to be more hands off today. The plants to transplant are on the third table over there, and the bigger pots are stacked outside along the side of the building. Let's see what you can do."

The students scattered, some heading over to the table that held the Fanged Geraniums, some to the bags of potting soil, and others outside to retrieve pots. Neville dragged a chair over to the side of the greenhouse, where he could inspect his collection of _Mimbulus mimbletoniae_ while still keeping an eye and an ear on the students' endeavors. Around him, the students began to get the new pots ready for their geraniums. Usually, he'd be right there in the middle of them, but he didn't think he was needed today. Transplanting should be old hat for these students, and he wanted to see if they could do it on their own. After all, he wouldn't be there to tell them what to do in the middle of their O.W.L. exams.

All too soon, the old pots were empty (and only one had been accidentally dropped and broken—a new record), and the students were sprinkling water on their transplants. They were getting faster at this; last year, it had taken until the end of the class period for everyone to have a plant repotted, but today there was still almost an hour left. Neville decided not to worry about giving them additional instruction—there would be enough of that in the year to come—but let them go early. There was a chorus of cheers, though it was short-lived as they hurried to get out of there, as if worried he'd change his mind.

Neville smiled as he watched them go. He hadn't touched a single Fanged Geranium during the entire class period, and yet somehow he felt more accomplished than if he'd repotted every plant in this greenhouse himself.


End file.
